


Oversung Hero

by offpanel_archivist



Series: Martian Manlove [47]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-01-01
Updated: 2005-01-01
Packaged: 2019-08-20 09:01:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16552847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/offpanel_archivist/pseuds/offpanel_archivist
Summary: Stephanie Brown always thought she wanted to be a superhero, but she has cause to worry about what she wished for.





	Oversung Hero

**Author's Note:**

> Follows "The Apprentice" in year 2 of the J'onnverse. Note that canon firing of Stephanie Brown (GK # ) has NOT occurred. Events of Bruce Wayne: Murderer?/Fugitive replaced in this 'verse by a combination of fics, including "Paper Hearts" and "Fugitive Endeavor" in year 1. The "Obsidian Age" arc in JLA is replaced by "All's Fair."
> 
> Canon notes:
> 
> Part 1 - The details of Gotham architecture post-quake come from Gotham City Secret Files and Origins.
> 
> Part 2 - Jason Todd Wayne's death is told in "A Death in the Family" TPB. Bruce Wayne did donate kevlar vests to the Bludhaven PD in GK # 32.
> 
> Part 3 - Batman's early absence in No Man's Land and his relationship to Gotham as "her" is detailed in the "No Man's Land, Volume 5" TPB. J'onn played Batman "at that drag show" in the J'onnverse year 2 story "30/30, date 24" by nw's chick. The "Id case" refers to the events in JLA #50-53. The story with the plelloch was "Play" from J'onnverse year 1.
> 
> Part 5 - Bruce's history with the Hard Cases and its context are canon, circa 1980s. Details of Dinah's relationship with her mother come from the "JLA: Year One" TPB. Her background as a florist comes up there and in "The Longbow Hunters" TPB. The events with the Cluemaster moving back home with Crystal and Steph and Dinah's involvement are told in Robin #93-94, 99 and BoP #39-40.
> 
> Part 7 - Wildcat (Ted Grant) was among the people who trained Batman, a detail which has come up multiple times in canon.
> 
> Part 8 - The JSA spent what they believed to be eternity in limbo, battling against some big bad. They eventually were returned to Earth, as detailed in (I think) one of the early Starman TPBs. Dick Grayson's firing is told in Batman #408 and retold in Batman #416 and comes up fairly frequently in later canon stories. Batman spilled Tim's secret identity to Spoiler in Robin #87.
> 
> Part 10 - Black Canary at one point agreed to mentor Spoiler, but it obviously didn't pan out. Dinah was in the JSA, by this point she has left the team. For the record, most of the JSA does NOT know Bruce Wayne is Batman. Sand's history is recounted gradually through the JSA TPB "Justice Be Done." The list of bad things that happened to sidekicks: dead - take your pick. Brainwashed, I had in mind Ernie, sidekick to General Glory but again, there's probably more. The soul-sharing thing is a crapshoot as to whether Sand knows about it, but it was the fate of Rose Psychic, sidekick to Dr. Occult. And again, she's probably not the only one.
> 
> Rating: PG-13 (language)
> 
> Caveat:  Writing this has felt like a giant "tie up loose ends" fic.  If you are interested in what happens to Spoiler, what cover story Bruce uses for the injury he sustained in "The Apprentice," whether or not Barbara accepts the job offer from Ted Kord, or like the JSA, you'll probably enjoy at least part of this.  There actually is something of a plot here, but I'm not sure it justifies the 10 parts I've given it.  If it's not to your liking, please exercise the delete key. -C
> 
> ***
> 
> Note from the offpanel archivist: this story was originally archived at Offpanel.net, which will be closing in November 2016. To preserve the archive, members began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in March 2016. Kerithwyn e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on the offpanel.net collection profile.

Oversung Hero, part 1 By Chicago

Stephanie Brown rose with a groan from her bed, blinking at the clock on her nightstand.  11:30.  Good.  Her mother would be at work.

She stretched and scratched at the material covering the stabilizing brace on her arm, trying to pretend she was actually getting the itch on her skin.  She finally abandoned the attempt, scrubbing her face with her hands and yawning hugely as she headed down the stairs to the kitchen.

The house was quiet, and she wondered briefly if she should turn the ringers back on on the phones.  She thought back to yesterday's media circus and decided it was better to let the voice mail fill up.

"Where's your sling?

Steph froze in the kitchen doorway.  "Mom?" she squeaked.  Her mother was sitting at the kitchen table, a cup of coffee sitting in front of her.  "Aren't you - I mean, don't you have to work?"

"I called in sick.  The hospital doesn't need those media sharks hovering around.  And you didn't answer my question." Steph sighed and went to the cupboard to get a glass.  "L- Dr. Thompkins said I could stop wearing it," she explained.  "When she checked me out yesterday."  She rummaged in the refrigerator for orange juice, poured a glass, then sat across from her mother. 

"You want to see your press?" her mother asked, sliding the morning's paper across the table.

Steph glanced down at the paper, taking in the blaring headline.  "TEEN HERO SAVES BILLIONAIRE!" 

"Mom-" Steph began helplessly.

Steph's mother's hand tightened on the handle of her mug, and her lips pressed into a thin line.  "Stephanie-"

Steph waited with half-held breath.  Here it came.

"Stephanie, I -"  Crystal Bellinger-Brown sighed. 

"I didn't mean for this to happen, Mom," Steph apologized, her eyes downcast.

"I know that, Steph."  Crystal's tone a mix of gentleness and exasperation.  "I - a part of me is really proud of you.  If it weren't for everything else - you were just doing the right thing."

Steph closed her eyes, remembering yesterday's misadventure.  She had been on a class fieldtrip, bored and underwhelmed by an architectural tour that scarcely seemed to merit the enthusiasm that their guide had in abundance.  While the rest of the class had ogled the contrast of pre-quake gargoyles on the old Wayne Tower and the sleek lines of its companion buildings, Steph had been people watching at street level.  She hadn't even been consciously interested in the limo that had pulled up by the side entrance of Wayne Tower, but that was where her gaze had landed when a man had darted from behind a sculpture, knife raised.

She had screamed a warning, and that had been enough to turn all attention to her.  She could still see the knife descending in slow motion as Bruce Wayne turned, angling his body enough that the blade sliced across his back and shoulder rather than stabbed between his shoulder blades.

He had fallen under the assault, and instinct rather than forethought had taken Stephanie to his side to apply pressure to his bleeding wound.  His assailant had disappeared into the stunned crowd.

She opened her eyes and looked at her mother.  "Did they catch the guy?"

Crystal shook her head.  "They've got your description of him in the story, but - Steph, I don't know what to do with you.  I don't know whether to hug you or shake you."

Steph looked back down at the paper, not really seeing the text.  "Hug me?" she suggested.

Crystal rose from the table and walked to her daughter's side, wrapping her arms around the teen and kissing the top of her head.  "I love you, Stephanie.  You make me absolutely crazy, but I do love you."

Steph leaned her head against her mother's breast, feeling suddenly old.  It had been scary, being there in that alley feeling Bruce Wayne's blood soaking through the sweatshirt she had pressed against his wound, then being shunted aside by paramedics only to spend hours with the police, tearfully waiting for her mother to come fetch her.  Was it only a week ago that she had been sneaking out at night, angrily defying her mother and internally screaming at the unfairness of the vigilante club she could not quite seem to be a member of?

Crystal released her daughter with another sigh.  "The police have managed to keep your name and your photograph out of the papers for us, so that's one small blessing.  I think they're worried that this guy you stopped might be crazy enough to come after you.  I promised them I'd keep you home over the weekend."

"I don't think he'd recognize me," Stephanie tried to comfort, her stomach tightening at this unexpected worry.  "He was gone before I'd gotten clear of the crowd."

Crystal nodded absently, her face pinched.  "That's what the police figured, too, but they want us to play it safe for a couple of days."  She picked up her coffee cup and moved to the coffee maker.  "They're pretty sure the press will stop trying to figure out an angle on the story by Monday."  She snorted.  "Something about yesterday's news."

"Make way for tomorrow's disaster," Steph remarked with heavy irony.  She stood from the table, pushing the paper away from her in disgust.  "I'm going to go take a bath."

"Okay," her mother acknowledged, taking a sip of her refreshed coffee.  Her expression was distant and worried.

Steph hesitated uncertainly, but there was nothing else she could think of to say.  She picked up her half-finished glass of orange juice and headed back upstairs.

End part 1

**************************

Oversung Hero, part 2By Chicago

Disclaimers in "part 0"

Crystal Bellinger-Brown stared at her coffee.  She had already had too many cups to judge from the jitters going through her, but drinking coffee gave her something to do.  She listened as the squeak of the upstairs faucet began the sound of water flowing through the pipes and sighed.  Stephanie was a good kid under it all, Crystal knew.  She'd made mistakes, but so had Crystal - far worse ones.  Whatever else was true of Steph, at least she'd avoided the drugs that had robbed Crystal of the best years of her life.

Instead, Crystal was grounding her daughter for wanting to be a superhero.  It wasn't something that was covered in the parenting manuals.  Upstairs, a familiar CD started playing, one of Steph's favorites.  Crystal didn't have the heart to demand she turn it down; at least Steph was still alive to play her music too loud.

The doorbell sounded, and Crystal frowned.  She wasn't expecting anyone, but she knew a surreptitious police presence surrounded her home and would not have let someone through without cause.  She stood and dumped the rest of her coffee in the sink, then went to investigate.

She wasn't quite sure she should believe what she saw through the peep hole.  He was tall - taller than he looked in the tabloids.  And broad through the shoulders across which a wool trench coat rested.  A silk scarf was tossed rakishly around his neck. 

Bruce Wayne.

Her mind did not want to process it; this was the man her daughter had saved.

He was just reaching for the doorbell again when she remembered herself and opened the door.  "Hello?" she greeted, forcing the same bored, 'what do you want' tone she adopted for kids selling cookies and petitioners for the environment.

Bruce Wayne flashed her a dazzling smile - who knew teeth could be so white? - and inclined his head slightly in greeting.  "Mrs. Bellinger-Brown?  I'm Bruce Wayne.  I couldn't get through on the phone, so-"  He shrugged apologetically, the action made awkward by the sling which held his right arm to his body.  "May I come in?"

"Of course, of course," she blustered, opening the door wide enough for him to enter.  "Can I take your coat?"

"That would be great, thanks," he replied, shifting awkwardly to shake the coat from his injured shoulder.  "If you could - "

Crystal caught hold of the shoulder of the coat, allowing Bruce to slip free of the heavy wool.  She grabbed at the scarf, catching it before it hit the floor and tucking it into the sleeve of the coat.  "Stephanie is up taking a bath," she explained as she hung the coat in the closet, "but if you don't mind waiting for her, you can join me for some coffee."

"That would be lovely," he agreed, and she turned to find him looking around her foyer curiously.  She felt suddenly embarrassed by the shabbiness of her home, contrasting sharply with this tall man in crisply tailored slacks and a sweater that had been unbelievably soft under her fingers as she'd helped him remove his coat.  She knew instinctively he was dressed down for this visit, and he still seemed to outshine his modest surroundings.

"Right this way," she urged, not wishing him to notice just how faded the wallpaper was or the not-quite-square angles of the photos hung near the front door.

"This is a lovely home," he observed amiably as he followed her lead, the bland pleasantry *almost* believable from his tone.

"It's a place to hang our hats," Crystal acknowledged.  "Do you take milk and sugar?  I'm afraid I don't have cream, but -"

"Oh, black is fine."  He sat at the table and cocked his head a little.  "Blasted Earth," he identified as Stephanie's music bled down to the kitchen.

"Something like that," Crystal confirmed, handing Bruce a cup of coffee and sitting down across from him with her own cup.  "I sort of miss the days when she was into N*Beat.  At least I could understand the words."

Bruce nodded as he took a sip of coffee.  "Mm, thank you for this.  My butler decided that given yesterday's events, I didn't need any coffee this morning.  He's very difficult to argue with."

Crystal smiled sympathetically.  "I could probably argue with anyone if I were deprived of my morning coffee."

Bruce Wayne chuckled appreciatively. 

"I'm going to go tell Stephanie you're here so she'll hurry up," Crystal announced, rising to her feet.

"Oh, I¹m in no -"

"It'll just take a second."  Crystal left the kitchen hurriedly and took the stairs two at a time.  She tapped at the bathroom door, then had to knock harder to be heard over the music.  "Steph?"

"Yeah, mom?" Steph hollered back.

"Steph, Bruce Wayne is here, so you might want to hurry up."

The volume on the music suddenly decreased.  "What?"

"I said," Crystal repeated impatiently, too aware of the billionaire in her kitchen, "Bruce Wayne is here."

There was the sound of water splashing and a dripping, towel-wrapped Steph opened the door a crack to peek through.  "Bruce *Wayne*?" she gasped.

"Yes.  In our kitchen.  And you know better than to have a radio so close to -"

"It's a shower stereo, Mom," Stephanie informed her in irritated tones.  "And what's Bruce Wayne doing here?  I mean -"

"I don't know, Steph.  Maybe he wants to thank you.  Just - get dressed and come downstairs, okay?  I gotta go talk to him or something."

The door shut without an answer, and Crystal took that as agreement.  She headed back down the stairs to find Bruce where she had left him.  "She'll be down in a couple minutes."

Bruce Wayne nodded.  "I'd hoped to talk to you before she got down here anyway."

"Oh?"

He took a sip of coffee.  "Obviously, I owe Stephanie my life.  I took the liberty this morning of setting up a special fund to cover all her college expenses.  I thought I might publicly award it to her for her good deed, but - Mrs. Bel-"

Crystal realized her face had slipped into a frown, and she shook her head.  "Call me Crystal.  And I'm not - well, I appreciate you coming to ask about the public thing.  I can tell you right now we don't want that - the publicity, that is.  College fundingŠ"  Crystal sighed.  "I'll be honest, Mr. Wayne-"

"Bruce."

"Bruce.  If you'd've come in here any day of the week saying Steph did something that's going to get her a full ride to college, I'd probably kiss your feet."  She waved her hand vaguely to indicate her home.  "As you can see, we're not hurting, but we're in that paycheck to paycheck corner of America, and Steph's scholarship potential is - well, she's not your straight-A student, y'know?"

"But," Bruce supplied.

"But - it's what she did that's got me bothered," Crystal confessed.  "Not that I'm unhappy that someone saved your life, but I'm sorry that someone was Steph."

Bruce Wayne looked confused.  "That's an odd sentiment.  I would think most people would be glad their kids have got a sense of doing right or -"

"Oh, I¹m not worried about Steph's sense of doing right.  The kid's got more righteousness in her than your typical teenager, and that's saying something.  It's - look, I know you probably didn't notice yesterday, being hurt and all, but when she comes downŠ A week ago Steph broke her arm trying to be a hero.  She doesn't *think*, she just does.  I keep trying to explain to her that she needs to grow up a bit, not try to save the world and put herself in danger all the time, but-"

Crystal looked helplessly at Bruce Wayne, not able to explain any better.

She was surprised to find him smiling mildly, understanding in his eyes.  "She sounds a lot like my kids."

Crystal did a double take.  "I thought -"

"Adopted," Bruce explained.  "Two boys.  The youngest-"  His expression grew pained for a moment, and Crystal felt a flush of embarrassed guilt.  There was that boy that Bruce Wayne adopted who had died somewhere over in Africa, she remembered belatedly.

"I'm sorry.  I had heard the story but-" she raised her hands helplessly.

Bruce seemed to shake off his emotion and offered Crystal a wan smile.  "It never is good to outlive your kids.  But Jason-"  He sighed.  "Jason died because he was doing something I forbade him to do." He paused for a moment as if to collect himself, and Crystal felt echoes of dozens of lectures she had given to Steph. "I think a lot of the times, if I had just - if I had figured out why it was so important to him, had been there to support him, had not let things get so out of handŠ  But it's hard.  I'm still struggling not to be so heavy handed with Dick."

"Dick?"

"My older son.  Just as stubborn as Jason.  He decided to become a cop for a lot of good reasons, and it makes me crazy sometimes.  It's so damned - forgive me-"

Crystal nodded, letting the mild profanity go.

"It's so dangerous," Bruce continued.  "But I know if I told him flat out he couldn't do it?  He'd just find something else, or go somewhere else, and work harder to have it in spite of me.  And he wouldn't let me help.  At least if I bend with him a little, he'll accept it if I donate kevlar vests to the Bludhaven force."

"Yeah," Crystal agreed hoarsely, wondering how many nights Steph had snuck out without the limited protection the Spoiler costume could provide.

Bruce shook himself and gave another smile.  "I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to get maudlin.  But - look, sometimes kids are going to do things no matter how hard you try to keep them safe.  And if Stephanie is set on heroics, maybe its worth meeting her half way."

Crystal regarded the billionaire across the table, but he wasn't just a billionaire to her anymore.  "How?" she asked.

"An internship is a possibility," Bruce answered, clearly thinking about the question.  "Most police and fire departments have something, although from the sounds of itŠ"

"From the sounds of what?" Stephanie's voice interrupted.

"Stephanie," Crystal began warningly, rising to her feet, "Bruce Wayne, this is my daughter, Stephanie."

Bruce smiled as he stood, offering his uninjured left hand for a handshake.  "Stephanie.  It's so good to meet-"  He hesitated as Stephanie held up her own splinted arm in apology.  "I guess we match," he remarked wryly, and Crystal was impressed at how he managed to avoid awkwardness, how he always seemed in control.  She had read media accounts of Bruce Wayne as occasionally bumbling, but there was no evidence of that here.

Stephanie, for her part, smiled in response to Wayne's comment.  "Mirror images, anyway.  I hope you're feeling better."

"Should be good as new in a couple of weeks, thanks to you.  Join us?" he suggested, gesturing toward the table.

Stephanie accepted the invitation, taking the seat at the head of the table between Crystal and Bruce Wayne.  "Any word on the guy who attacked you?"  Stephanie asked.

Bruce shook his head.  "Nothing yet.  But that's not what I wanted to see you about.  He's business for the police.  And I owe you a serious debt."

Stephanie blushed a little and lowered her eyes.  "I'm just happy that you're going to be okay."

Bruce Wayne smiled at Stephanie and gave a knowing look in Crystal's direction.  "Of course you are.  Your mother raised you to be a decent human being.  And frankly, the world needs more of those, which is what I was just talking to your mother about."

Crystal felt herself stiffen, worried at what Wayne was going to say, but his next words reassured her and even caught her admiring him for cleverly covering the conversation that Stephanie had interrupted.

"I've taken the liberty of setting up a college fund for you," Bruce explained, causing Stephanie to bring her eyes up to meet his.

"Oh, no, I couldn't-" she protested, but her eyes said something else entirely.  It was almost surprising to Crystal, the unvoiced desire in her daughter's expression.  How much had Stephanie been keeping back from her mother, knowing too well what they could and couldn't afford?

"Nonsense," Bruce cut Stephanie off.  "As I said, the world needs more decent people, and there should be some reward for that decency.  And what I was just explaining to your mother is that you should be able to get an education wherever you want, at the best school for whatever it is you want to do.  Heaven knows the world needs more ethical business people and compassionate doctors and civic-minded lawyers."

Stephanie stared at Bruce Wayne.  "But I'm - I'm really not so good a student and -" 

"Steph," Crystal admonished, patting her daughter's good hand.  "Mr. Wayne seems determined to do this for you, although he's agreed not to make a publicity issue out of it."

"I think of it as an investment rather than a reward," Bruce added.  "You're shown your mettle, and that more than anything tells me you'll do fine - very well, in fact - in school or at whatever you go into."

Stephanie looked uncertainly at her mother, and Crystal gave her hand an encouraging squeeze, trying to communicate with her eyes that Steph should thank the man.

Steph took a deep breath and turned back to Bruce Wayne.  "Okay," she agreed.  "Thank you.  And thank you for not putting this all over the news-"

"I know what it is to be dogged by cameras and reporters," Bruce assured.  "There's no good reason to share that burden."  He glanced down at his watch.  "I don't wish to be rude, but I promised a friend-"

"Oh, of course.  We don't mean to keep you," Crystal blustered.

"Not at all.  I've enjoyed your company."  He took a final swallow from his mug.  "And the coffee," he added with a conspiratorial half-smile at Crystal.  "I just should be moving along."

Crystal stood.  "I'll walk you to the door and get your coat.  Stephanie, if you could clear the table-"

"Okay, Mom," Steph agreed, already collecting the mugs.

Crystal led Bruce back to the foyer and pulled his coat from the closet, helping him drape it over his injured shoulder.  "I can't thank you enough-" she began, wondering how to put into words the surprise she had felt at Stephanie's obvious yearning for college and beyond.

"No thanks are necessary, Crystal," he replied.  He turned to hold out a business card to her.  "That's my direct line," he explained.  "If you want to talk more about those internship ideas, just call.  I am fairly well connected."

Crystal nodded, resisting the urge to snort at the understatement.  "I'll think about it," she answered carefully.

Bruce nodded, putting his hand to the doorknob.  "That's all I can ask."  He opened the door, and Crystal caught it and held it for him belatedly, glimpsing a sleek black car pulling up to the curb.  "Have a good day, Mrs. Bellinger-Brown."

"You, too," Crystal answered, watching him leave and then closing the door behind him.  She looked down at the business card in her hand, shaking her head.  She tucked it into her back pocket and headed back to help her daughter wash the breakfast dishes.

End part 2

*********************

Oversung Hero, part 3By Chicago

Disclaimers in "part 0"

Bruce Wayne stood in the costume vault, half dressed in the Batsuit.  He pushed his heels down in his boots, then did a couple lunges to be sure he was well settled in the lower half of the costume.  The kevlar weave hugged his skin, comforting and secure.  It felt as if it had been weeks since he had worn it, rather than two days.

Satisfied with the fit and give of the lower half of his costume, he reached his good arm for the thin underlayer that he wore under the upper body armor.

"Don't."

Startled, Bruce looked up in the direction the voice had come from to watch J'onn finish ghosting through the ceiling and settle down a few feet from him.  "Please."

Bruce studied his lover.  "J'onn?"

"Just - not yet."  There was a hint of pleading in the Martian's voice.

Bruce turned away, reaching again for the undershirt.  "Batman needs to make an appearance before word hits the street that someone got a piece of him."

Strong green fingers closed on his wrist.  "Bruce."

Bruce looked at the hand on his wrist, then turned a glare at J'onn.  "Let go of me, J'onn," he growled.

J'onn remained unmoved.  "It hurts."

Bruce schooled a desire to catch hold of J'onn's wrist, to twist his body to throw the Martian aside.  Pragmatically, it would be unwise; J'onn could physically prevent him from donning the suit if provoked.  And angry as he was, he didn't want to fight J'onn.  "I know it hurts," he snapped.  "We've talked about this before.  Pain is useful, and important.  If-"

"Bruce," J'onn interrupted, tightening his hold on Bruce's wrist just shy of bruising.  "It hurts *me*."

A few snatches of thought bled through to Bruce, obviously by design.  Memories of Du Bois' knife cutting into his shoulder, not as Bruce remembered it, but as an unexpected stab during a stake out.  The constant ghost ache and burn of an injury to another's body.  And a fleeting sense of unwilling duty that Bruce knew belonged to J'onn's part in the subterfuge that had provided a cover for his injury, a hidden agony at playing the role of a nameless thug who had tried to "kill" Bruce Wayne and then had cast the illusion that the wound on Bruce's shoulder was fresh.  He had forgotten, in his telepathic deafness, that J'onn could not so easily close out the voices of those around him, could not hope to shut himself off to the man with whom he had shared even his soul.

He stared at J'onn, his expression softening a little.  He had been so focused on what needed to be done that he hadn't paid enough attention to what he was asking.  "J'onn-"

J'onn stood without comment, maintaining his hold on Bruce's wrist, mutely communicating that he would not be moved.

A sense of desperation seized Bruce.  "J'onn, I *need* to patrol.  Please-"

Something - recognition? - flashed in the red eyes that met his so steadily, and J'onn's fingers loosened a little.  Not enough that Bruce could extricate himself, but enough to imply that there was room to negotiate.  "Du Bois did not weaken Batman."  J'onn's tone was heavy, as if he knew that talking wouldn't be enough.

Bruce closed his eyes for a second, trying to organize his own thoughts.  "I know that.  But Gotham-"  How to put it into words?  He had promised his city.  She needed him, and he needed her.  To beg her forbearance for anything less than world catastrophe or complete incapacitation was to invite mutual disaster.  The cold rationality of the detective knew better, but the heart of the man?  He remembered too well the battle with his city during her time as "No Man's Land," her lack of forgiveness for his absence.

J'onn's grasp loosened a little more, and Bruce slipped his wrist free to rub the skin reddened by the press of alien fingers.  J'onn sighed heavily.  "There are other ways," he proposed.

Bruce frowned.  "I can't just sit here and direct traffic.  I-" He broke off as J'onn unexpectedly morphed into Batman.  He stared, unnerved by the perfect doppleganger.  Yes, J'onn had done this before, at that drag show, but that was answering the need of the moment, not a premeditated action.  He felt an unpleasant flashback to the Id case, when he had been divided from Batman, filled with impotent rage.  "No," he said flatly, turning back toward the locker housing the night's costume.  He didn't renew his effort to get dressed, but he would not continue to look at J'onn in his form.

*Bruce.*  The telepathic touch managed nuances that a voiced word could not, implying a plan, suggesting understanding, and requesting at least an audience for J'onn's idea.

Eschewing the link until he got his own tumbled emotions in order, Bruce replied as honestly as he could.  "I don't want you fighting my battles for me."

*Neither do I.*

Bruce turned back, steeling himself, but J'onn had slipped back into his Martian Manhunter form.  "Then why -?"

J'onn's expression was thoughtful.  "You remember the plelloch?"

The unexpected shift in conversation caught Bruce off guard.  "J'onn, what does-"  He gasped suddenly as his vision doubled, altered.  He saw *himself* - not J'onn in his form, but himself, standing at his locker, naked to the waist, blinking rapidly.  The image faded quickly and he caught at the wall of the locker to steady himself.  He waited for his heartbeat to slow, then asked, "Your eyes?"

J'onn nodded.  "I can link our consciousnesses, let you see what I'm doing, advise me on what I'm seeing."

Bruce sat down on the bench in front of his locker.  He picked his words carefully.  "That's reallyŠ disconcerting."

"I know.  But," J'onn shifted back into the Batman form, "it lets you be part of patrol.  I can pretend to be you, but I cannot take care of the city the way you can.  And I'm not sure I can bear you pushing yourself as hard as you want to."

"The voice is still too gravelly," Bruce objected, forcing back his discomfort to study J'onn's imitation.

"Hh," J'onn responded, drawing himself up and letting the Bat's cape close around him.

Was that how that looked, Bruce wondered, resisting the urge to challenge his disguised lover, to assert his territorial rights.  Interesting.

"Well?"

Bruce considered a moment more.  "It won't work."

The Batman body dissolved back into green.  "Bruce-"

"Cassandra will see through it."  He shook his head decisively and began to rise again to resume suiting up.

"*Bruce!*"  There was raw frustration in J'onn's voice, a rare enough occurrence that Bruce turned back to face the Martian.  J'onn's arms were crossed over his chest in the same pose he had been in as Batman, although the blue cape fell back over his shoulders rather than cloaking him.  "I do not have to patrol with Batgirl, and if she does see me, I would think she'd be relieved.  *She* understands the need of a body to heal, and I think she's carrying enough guilt from what happened with Du Bois."

The mention of Batgirl's sense of guilt, however unreasonable, caught Bruce short.  That was his fault-

"Bruce," J'onn said again, this time sounding tired and reproachful.

Bruce dropped his hands, not wanting to turn back to see J'onn's expression.  "What if there's fire?"

J'onn's tone gentled.  "Then you'll pull me out of it.  You'll be with me the whole time."

"I still don't like this."

He felt J'onn's hand come to rest softly on his injured shoulder.  "I know.  Neither do I.  But compromise leaves everyone unsatisfied."

Bruce reached up to cover J'onn's hand with his own, still unwilling to turn to look at his lover.  "Okay," he sighed.  "Okay."

End part 3

*********************

Oversung Hero, part 4By Chicago

Disclaimers in "part 0"

Crystal slumped onto the couch and turned on the TV to flip numbly through the channels.  She had gotten home from her third shift in just enough time to see Stephanie out the door for school, and she really should sleep, but the weight of work still tensed through her frame and she just needed to relax.

She held the remote in her left hand, resting on the couch beside her as she moved only enough to press the channel button.  She missed cable; even in a city the size of Gotham, there weren't enough free channel to cycle through during commercial breaks.  Then there was the issue of what she wanted to look at: seizure-inducing cartoons or too perky "news" anchors.  And infomercials, of course.  There always seemed to be at least two channels that only ever showed weight-loss gimmicks or get rich quick schemes.  She found herself staring at a some juice making gizmo in glassy eyed exhaustion for almost five minutes before she shook herself and managed to reengage her channel flipping finger.

She should watch the news, she decided, opting for the locally produced morning show rather than the nauseating sameness of the national shows.  At least the local crew sounded like people she knew and would be subject to the same weather conditions.  New York City wasn't that far away, but she hated seeing the sun shining on Sunrise, America! when it was foggy and dank in Gotham.

She rested her head back against the couch, letting the morning news chatter lull her deeper into a stupor.  She was in danger of falling asleep where she sat, but she knew what would happen if she went upstairs and lay down.  Then her mind would start whirling in the silence; what should she do about Stephanie?

"Š this hour, the manhunt for billionaire industrialist Bruce Wayne's attackerŠ"

Crystal's head snapped up, and she increased the volume.

"Š comes to an end.  Former lieutenant governor Cary Marcus denies allegations that he forced employees to solicit campaign funds on state time, and Gotham Zoo's own Willow the bear is expecting twins.  Details after the break."

Crystal stared at the television as the screen cut to a view of downtown before fading to commercial, and she lowered the volume a little as a coffee ad percolated in front of her.  The manhunt had come to an end?  Had they caught the guy?  Where?  When?  Would Stephanie be forced to make an ID?  Her heart was racing as she waited through ads for luxury cars and breakfast cereal.

Finally the news came back, and an appropriately somber-faced anchor explained:  "The badly fish-eaten body of a John Doe found in the Gotham Estuary early this morning is believed to be the remains of an unidentified man who attacked billionaire Bruce Wayne last Friday.  Authorities made their determination from clothes and the knife strapped to the belt of the corpse.  WGTM's own Serena Polanco is live outside the medical examiner's office with more details.  Serena?"

"Thanks, Roque.  The police still do not have a name to attach to the body they fished out of the estuary this morning, but Commissioner Akins expressed 98% confidence that whoever he else is, he is definitely the man who stabbed Bruce Wayne last weekŠ"

Crystal brought a hand to her chest and drew a couple of deep breaths.  98% certain.  That was a CYA figure - the commissioner knew who he had.  She was almost angry they hadn't called and told her, relieved the nagging worry that had plagued her ever since she had claimed her daughter from police headquarters that Wayne's assailant would come after Steph.  A more rational corner of her mind remembered how the police had been reassuring and present, and that they were probably dealing with breaking news, and she still wasn't sure Steph had turned the ringer back on on the phone.  They might even have called and talked to Steph, although surely Stephanie would have said something.

Or maybe not.

They didn't talk enough.  Crystal had been trying to do better, trying to find more time since Steph had gotten pregnant.  And it had been better for a while.  But then there had been the quake and Arthur had gotten out of jail and the Cluemaster had been back in business and there were all the fights about the costume.  And then Arthur had died.  Been killed.  Whatever.  He was gone.

Crystal didn't want her daughter to die the same way.

She thought back to the conversation with Bruce Wayne.  He hadn't been at all what she had expected.  Well, in some ways he had been exactly what she had expected, but what he said about raising kids made sense.  He was right, the harder she tried to control Stephanie, the sneakier she became in her defiance and her disobedience.  And even though Steph had been contrite almost to the point of being a different child since the incident as Spoiler, Crystal knew better than to believe in new leaves.  She'd turned over enough herself, enough to know that vowing to quit anything didn't mean a damned thing unless it was something a person was genuinely doing for herself.

Stephanie might not have *wanted* to go against her mother's wishes, but when she saw Bruce Wayne in danger, she was compelled.  That wouldn't change.

Crystal turned off the television and pushed herself onto her feet.  She headed upstairs, but not to bed.  No, she needed to get a business card that she had tossed on her nightstand two days ago, thinking she would never call.

It was time to find out what Bruce Wayne was talking about when he suggested internships.

End part 4

*********************

Oversung Hero, part 5By Chicago

Disclaimers in "part 0" 

Stephanie Brown stared out the window of a limousine borrowed from Bruce Wayne as the suburban sprawl of Gotham slowly gave way to the almost rural tract of land that signaled the approach of the suburban sprawl of New York City.  Behind her, her mother and Dinah Lance - a.k.a. *Black Canary* - were chatting in what sounded like an amiable fashion.  In front of all of them, the end point of this particular Saturday morning drive, was the JSA brownstone.  Steph caught the flesh of her upper arm between the fingers of her good hand and pinched herself for what must've been the hundredth time in the last five days.

It had been decidedly weird when she returned from school Monday afternoon to find her mother at the kitchen table, surrounded by brochures for internships.  When Steph had realized what *kind* of internships - police and fire department and similarly themed "heroic" professions - she had been surprised.  But the whole scene had taken a turn for the surreal when her mother had hesitantly presented her with a brochure for an internship with the Justice Society of America.

Steph didn't know which surprised her more; the fact that the JSA had an internship program, or the fact that her mother had actually encouraged her to look into it.

No, she changed her mind.  It was definitely the latter.

They had talked about it almost all night, Stephanie stunned and hopeful and her mother concerned and earnest.  They had reached a tentative agreement.  No Spoiler - at least for a few months - and Crystal would back Stephanie's application for the JSA internship.  That backing was crucial; the first page of the application was a parental consent form.

Getting through the school day on Tuesday had been almost painful.

Tuesday evening, Steph had gone directly home and carefully filled out the entire application, recounting her father's history and her own desire to defy his legacy.  She carefully skirted mention of her costumed identity, although she did explain that she had had some encounters with members of the Batclan without elaborating.  She left the whole application on the kitchen table when she went to bed, and the next morning found the consent form signed and affixed with a sticky note reading, "It looks good.  -Mom"

She had faxed it on the way to school.

Dinah Lance had called last night.

"Š know Bruce Wayne?" Steph's mother was asking, and Stephanie turned half an ear back toward the conversation. She had been wondering the same thing.

Dinah laughed.  "Brucie?  Oh, that's a story and a half.  There was this stretch back - oh, I'd say 7 or 8 years ago, when all the rich and trendy were running or funding superhero teams.  There was the JLI, of course, that Maxwell Lord was running.  And his ex-wife started up the Conglomerate and then *everyone* seemed to be setting up a team.  There was one outfit run by the Revson cosmetics heirs, for Pete's sake.

"Anyway, Bruce Wayne got in on the act and started something called - get this - 'the Hard Cases.'  Obviously didn't consult his marketing guys on that one.  Anyway, it gave all us hero types a chance to rub elbows with the money types - and occasionally rescue them."

"You rescued him?"  Crystal sounded impressed.

Dinah waved that away.  "Once or twice," she claimed breezily.  "Brucie had a knack for getting into trouble.  Then he got bored and dropped the team, but he still has a bit of a thing for celebrity superheroes.  Hires them occasionally to play flashy bodyguard to his big to-dos and such."

Crystal nodded thoughtfully.  "You know, I'd never considered how superheroes make a living."

"Like anyone else - any which way they can.  I had a day job as a florist when I started out."

"You're kidding."

"Nope.  Heck, I was just a kid, then, too.  Nineteen years old and ready to follow in my mother's footsteps, no matter what she thought about it."

"Your mom didn't like the idea?" Stephanie interjected, turning from the window to join the conversation.

Dinah smiled.  "Mom wanted me to be happy just as a florist.  The shop - it was hers first, but she had so little time for it when she was adventuring with the original JSA - I thought then that she wanted me to have the boring half of her life."  The smile on Dinah's face saddened a little.  "It didn't occur to me until much, much later that she really just wanted me safe."

Stephanie felt herself glancing at her mother and meeting her eyes, then quickly looking away.

"Not," Dinah hastened, "that there's anything to worry about with this internship program.  It's really just all about the behind the scenesŠ ah, hell."

Both Steph and Crystal looked up, startled at Dinah's self-interruption.

"Sorry, I've been trying to think of a way to bring this up.  Crystal, I need to tell you, I know about Spoiler."

Stephanie thought her heart was going to freeze in her chest.  "Dinah-" she protested.

"Steph," Crystal warned.  "Go on, Dinah."

"First things first - this isn't anything to do with the JSA.  I'm not even on the JSA anymore, actually, although I'm the one Bruce Wayne contacted for information.  I keep up with them all, but I've got other things going on.

"Anyway, Crystal, you remember back after the quake, when your husband had been released from jail due to lack of space?"

Crystal nodded slowly, glancing at Steph.

"Steph - Spoiler - asked me for help through a mutual friend.  I was the one who chased them away."

"I knew they couldn't just have left.  Steph, why didn't you-"

"Hold the phone, Crystal.  I'm not done.  I actually thought that was a pretty smart move, relatively speaking, asking for help.  That's why I bothered to get the information on the internship to you at all.  The internship has been open forever because any kid whose been interested has been all about using it to turn into a superhero."

Steph and her mother exchanged a look.  "What made you think - I mean, knowing who I am - was -"

Dinah nodded sympathetically.  "Aside from the fact that the word 'Spoiler' didn't appear once in your application?  You'd have to ask the JSA, actually.  They made the decision.  I just got to be the messenger."

Crystal cleared her throat.  "So you were saying about the internship being behind the scenes - ?"

"Right.  Just like the brochure and application materials explained.  The idea behind the internship is to get young people familiar with the day to day management of a hero team.  There'll also be training on emergency management and some basic defensive training.  We just don't have a good base of people to call on for things like negotiating with insurance companies and running communications programs and handling the press for world scale problems.  Not that the JSA would expect Steph to do that, per se, but more to get a feel for what's really going on."

Crystal shook her head, and Steph worried for a second she would tap the glass and tell Bruce Wayne's driver to turn the car around.  Instead she pronounced, "Seems like those would be good skills in general to have."

"Yeah.  You'll see.  They're a good group of people."

Stephanie looked back out the window, hoping her mother wouldn't launch into one of her diatribes about people in costumes being generally a bad idea.  Instead, Crystal said, "I'm taking that on faith right now."

"Look!" Steph cried, preventing an awkward silence.  "George Washington Bridge, next exit."

Crystal shifted closer to the window, joining Steph in watching the rise of apartment buildings as they pulled off the parkway and neared the river.  An awed kind of silence united mother and daughter as they crossed into Manhattan and moved toward the Central Park.

The glass partition of the limousine slid down as they pulled up in front of the large brownstone that served as the JSA headquarters.  "I will wait here for you to finish your meeting," the British voice announced.

"Thanks, Alfred," Dinah acknowledged easily.  "All right, all's ashore that's going ashore."  Dinah reached past Stephanie to push the passenger door open, then waited as Steph and Crystal stepped out.

It really wasn't *that* big a building, considering it was Manhattan, but Stephanie still stared.  The JSA headquarters.  It was one thing to see the Batcave, but no one really *knew* about the Batcave.  No one filmed heroes storming from the Batcave to save the world - again.

"Pretty cool, huh?" Dinah remarked, and Steph blushed, embarrassed at appearing like a country tourist. 

Embarrassment turned to bemusement when she heard her mother say, "My grandmother used to tell me storiesŠ"

For the first time it occurred to Stephanie to wonder about how her mother had gotten to where she was in her life, and it was the wrong moment to ask.

"Yeah, I know how that is," Dinah replied, her tone managing a kind of grown-up sympathy that Steph had heard before and suddenly understood differently.  "We're going to go in the employee entrance," Dinah continued briskly, turning to lead Stephanie and Crystal away from the main entrance and heading down an alleyway.  "I'm not crazy about going in through the museum," Dinah confided.

She paused at a side door and fumbled in her jacket pockets, retrieving a key card.  She gave Steph and her mom a wink.  "Now we see if the boys left my access code enabled."  She swiped the card, and Steph realized she was holding her breath when the door swung open.  "After you," Dinah gestured.

Stephanie looked at her mother hesitantly, then obeyed.

"Dinah, I warned you about de-aging magics," a man's voice rang out, and Stephanie ducked a little. 

"Um, I'm not - I mean -"

She felt a hand on her shoulder from behind.  She glanced back nervously at her mother, and met Dinah's eyes.  "He knows," Dinah murmured as she walked forward.  "Ted, you ought to remember I never looked so good as a teenager.  How ya doin', old man?"

Ted - Wildcat, Stephanie recognized belatedly from the costume - met Dinah's hug with a tight embrace.  "Who you callin' old, there, missy?" he grumped, lifting Dinah from her feet for a moment before setting her back down and releasing her.  He returned his gaze to Stephanie, who took an unconscious half-step back toward her mother.  "So this is our potential new intern, eh?"

"Yep," Dinah agreed.  "Stephanie Brown, this is Wildcat.  Wildcat, Stephanie.  And this is her mom, Crystal."

Handshakes were exchanged all around, and Steph felt adrenaline surge in her body.  What was she thinking?  This was the *JSA*.  She couldn't just waltz in and-

"Dinah, why don't you go catch up with Sand on monitor.  I'll escort Stephanie to meet Mr. Terrific and Sentinel, and then I'll give Crystal the nickel tour until they're ready to see her." 

Stephanie blinked and shot Dinah a desperate look.  "You're not coming with -?"

"Don't worry," Dinah reassured.  "You'll do fine.  Mr. Terrific is very fair."

Wildcat gave a snort and Dinah glanced at him, although a faint smile was also playing on her lips.  "Am I wrong?"

"No, no," Wildcat backed down.  "She's right.  Mr. Terrific gives everyone a fair shake.  And Sentinel already mentioned how impressed he was with your application.  Now if you ladies will just follow me-"

Wildcat turned with surprising grace for his size, moving smoothly down the hall as if expecting to be followed.  A prod at her back from her mother got Stephanie moving, and she heard Dinah call, "You'll do great!"

She felt like her eyes could not open wide enough to take everything in.  There were pictures along the wall and occasional plaques and display cases.  She noted labels beside every item on their path, but they were moving to fast for her to even glimpse what any of them said.  The muted echo of their footfalls helped give the whole experience a sense of unreality, as if she were in a movie rather than her life.

Suddenly, Wildcat stopped in front of a door, and it didn't feel like a movie at all.  "Here we are," he announced, opening the door.  "Gentlemen," he said to the unseen occupants of the room, "here's Stephanie."

Another prod from her mother, and Stephanie took a deep breath and entered.  She heard the door shut behind her and it was all she could do to force her feet to move forward across the carpeted conference room.  At one end of the table, Sentinel sat stoically, and she wasn't sure if he was watching her through his mask. 

Not that she had much attention for him, because coming toward her was a tall, black man wearing a "T" shaped mask and a bomber jacket with the words "fair play" emblazoned up the sleeve.  She blinked at the lettering, belatedly getting the joke that Dinah and Wildcat had shared in the hall, and she managed to force a smile onto her face as she accepted Mr. Terrific's outstretched hand.

His smile was visible beneath his mask.  "Good morning, Stephanie.  Welcome to the JSA."

End part 5

**********************

Oversung Hero, part 6By Chicago

Disclaimers in "part 0"

Nightwing heard a soft *clik* and dove forward into a roll, not sure what he had just triggered.  He came up face to face with a rooftop camera, and a soft chuckle issued from his comlink.  "I upgraded."

Nightwing gave a token, unfelt glare at the camera and pulled himself back to his feet.  "You could've warned me," he grumbled.

"Now where's the fun in that?" Barbara's voice teased.  "I can't let you roofcrawlers keep the upper hand."

"Even roofcrawlers who intend to kiss you breathless?" Nightwing replied, swinging across to the Clocktower directly, abandoning the route he had chosen for stealth.

"*Especially* those roofcrawlers," Barbara replied.  "I don't want them taking those kisses for granted."

Nightwing grinned as he dropped down onto the fire escape outside Barbara's living room window.  "Never," he promised fervently, sliding open the double hung window.  "You in the war room?" he asked, scanning the living room as he entered.

"I managed to hack Lois Lane's computer," she confirmed.  "She's got an anonymous informant from the DEO filtering in reports relating to Masters."

Nightwing crossed the living room, peeling off his mask as he got to the war room door and entered.  "You're kidding," he stated.

"Nope."  Barbara turned at the sound of the door opening and shot a smile in Dick's direction.  She waved toward her monitor.  "She doesn't have quite enough to go public, but there's pretty strong evidence that Luthor had him killed."

Dick studied the notes on the monitor.  "Damn."  He shook his head.  "You know, you should be careful about hacking Lois' system.  No sense in-"

"Ahem," Barbara interrupted.  "Wasn't there some promise of getting kissed breathless?"

Dick looked down at Barbara, taking in the faint smile and amused eyes covering a hint of anger at his concern.  He gave a rueful chuckle.  "Sorry, Babs.  I know Superman won't catch you.  But LoisŠ"

"How do you think she got an anonymous DEO informant?" Barbara asked archly.

Dick blinked, then a huge grin expanded across his features.  He leaned down and caught Barbara by her shoulders, pulling their mouths together.  She tasted vaguely of orange spice tea as his tongue tangled with hers, and the hands she brought around his back raked across kevlar with enough pressure to send his blood flowing faster through his body.  He finally was the one who pulled back.

"Whew!" he panted.  "I suddenly feel overdressed."

Barbara grinned and gave his hip a smack before turning back to her keyboard.  "You are.  But keep your shirt on bit longer, Hunk Wonder." 

He rested his hands on her shoulders as she began backing out of Lois Lane's system.  He began working his thumbs in soft circles over her neck muscles, watching as she closed various applications and sent other feeds to different monitors.  "Hey, what's that JSA thing?" he asked suddenly.

Barbara paused, redirecting her keystrokes to expand the image that had caught Dick's eye.  It was a still from earlier in the day showing Black Canary introducing Stephanie Brown and her mother to Mr. Terrific.  "Steph's mom went for it," she explained.  "I figured down the road a piece Steph might like having a picture of her intro to the JSA."

"Down the road a piece?"

"Well, I'm still not sure how she's going to feel about Batman orchestrating the whole thing."

"Point," Dick allowed, studying the image.  "Steph looks a little nervous."

"Not everyone has been hanging out with superheroes since they were nine," Barbara reminded him, reaching up to tangle her fingers with one of the hands still sitting on her shoulders.  "It's a little scary to feel like you've been an outsider and suddenly be invited in."

Dick gave Barbara's fingers a squeeze.  "If she follows your model, she'll be running the show before she's twenty."

Barbara lowered her head, her eyes dropping to her lap.  "No one should have to follow my model, Dick," she said quietly.

Dick stayed still behind her for a moment.  "I know."

Barbara sighed and reached out to close the image, releasing Dick's hand in order to return to the task of shifting her systems to standby.

Dick moved from behind her chair to lean against one of the side arms of her workstation, watching her.  "So any other exciting news I missed today?" he asked.

Barbara shrugged, but a hint of mischief had returned to her body language.  "Not much.  I called Ted Kord today."

"And?" Dick kept his tone casual to match hers.

"I'll be attending my first board of directors meeting a week from Tuesday."

"Oh, Babs!"  Dick jumped up and wrapped his arms around her, kissing the side of her face and then her lips as she grinned at him.  "That's such great news!" he exclaimed, squeezing her more tightly.  He kissed her again.  "You should've told me earlier!  I could've brought champagne and -"

"Now, Dick," she chided, pushing him back and typing a few more commands into the computer, "you know that if we plan a celebration around here that Poison Ivy will break out of Arkham and plant super kudzu around an orphanage or something."  Her tone was heavily ironic, but she was smiling ear to ear.

"Yeah, yeah," Dick dismissed impatiently.  "But - WOO HOO!  My Babs has got the business world by the balls!"

Barbara pushed back from her workstation and watched as Dick vaulted into a handstand and piked into an Olympic landing, then spun around to beam at her.  "It's not the business world's balls I'm interested in," she remarked, eyes sparkling impishly.

Dick bounded back to her, leaning her whole chair back on its rear wheels to press his lips to hers.  Barbara wrapped her arms around his neck as she deepened the kiss, squealing a little as he suddenly scooped her from her chair.  She clung to him, lips still working fervently against his as he strode toward the bedroom.

He settled her lightly on the bed, straddling her, freeing his hands to explore her body more thoroughly and his lips to follow those hands.  "Dick," she gasped in half-hearted protest.

He raised his face from where he was nuzzling her neck, but his hands continued to tease the flesh under her t-shirt.  "I promised breathless," he reminded her.  He straightened up and peeled the top of his Nightwing costume from his body.

He leaned down again and snaked his hands beneath her to unhook her bra.  His lips brushed her ear.  "Didn't I?"

She lifted her hands to his bare skin.  "Yes," she breathed.

End part 6

*********************

Oversung Hero, part 7By Chicago

Disclaimers in "part 0"

The dream-like feeling of disbelief that had accompanied Steph through the door as she started her first full Saturday as a JSA intern had long since worn off.  It was replaced by a less dream-like feeling of disbelief; she wasn't sure why they had decided to take her on.  Mr. Terrific was patient and careful in his explanations, but the sheer magnitude of the JSA's operation was mind-boggling.  Throw in the kinds of powers that the JSA members commanded and Stephanie had whole new reasons to wonder why she had donned the Spoiler costume in the first place.  All the team members she had met so far made her realize that she was not in the Bat's world anymore.  She was almost relieved when Mr. Terrific was called to attend something and directed her to report back to the lounge.

She was relieved until she stepped through the door of the JSA lounge, and on the couch, both Jakeem and Courtney abruptly stopped talking and turned to look at her. She felt color rising in her face.  They had been talking about her, she knew it. It was like being in a school cafeteria when people suddenly got quiet or something.

She forced herself to smile a little.  "Mr. Terrific told me to come back here?"

Courtney shot a glance at Jakeem.  "Uh, yeah.  There was a message for you." She stood up and crossed to the lounge refrigerator and pulled a note from under a magnet.  "I just stuck it here in case we weren't here when you got back."

Steph accepted the note and unfolded it.

She felt her face grow hot again, this time more with anger when she saw the bat insignia in the lower right hand corner.   She pulled her eyes from the mark to read the note above, obviously dashed off with typical Bat efficiency.  "See Wildcat when you're done." She resisted the urge to crumple the note in her fist and instead folded it back along it's original crease.  She looked up at Courtney, who was obviously curious and equally obviously trying to look disinterested. "I'm supposed to meet Wildcat.  Does that mean here, or-"

Courtney cocked her head and laughed a little.  "Wildcat?  He won't be up *here* for hours.  Try the gym."

Stephanie tried to look disingenuous.  "I'm not sure-"

Jakeem sighed noisily from the couch.  "I'll take you," he stated, sounding put out.

"You can just tell me and-" Steph began.

Jakeem shook his head.  "You'll never find it.  Just come on."

Steph bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smarting back and turned sharply to follow.  "Thanks," she said over her shoulder to Courtney, not meaning it.

Jakeem was moving quickly, forcing Steph to jog a little to catch up.  He surprised her when he spoke. "So you're with the Bat."

"No," Steph responded curtly.

Jakeem slowed a step to glance at her.  "No?"

"I *was*," she clarified.  "Right now, I'm not sure what my status is."

Jakeem shrugged.  "Must have some status if he's leaving you orders."

"You read my note?" Steph asked, indignant.

"Hardly.  More like it's hard to miss when Bat messages come through this place."  He spared her another glance.  "And Bat kids."

Steph bristled.  "I'm not a kid!"

"Yeah," Jakeem responded, "that's what we all say.  Elevator." She followed his gesture, letting him enter after her and hit a button marked "SB."

"The gym is in the subbasement?" she asked.

"For now.  This place gets reconfigured so often it'll probably be on the roof by next month."

"Great," Steph muttered under her breath.  Bad enough she could barely find her way around the two floors she had seen so far.  If they planned to change it again soonŠ

"I'm sure you'll figure it out," Jakeem remarked, but his tone was not remotely reassuring and expressed anything but confidence.

The elevator doors slid open, and Jakeem again gestured for her to go ahead. The subbasement had a faint locker room odor to it, and she wrinkled her nose.

Jakeem caught her expression, and he released the first genuine laugh she had heard from him. "Eau de workout," he smirked.  "No headquarters is complete without it.  Especially headquarters where half the team is older than dirt and believes in sweat equity."

"Sweat what?" Steph echoed.

"That's what I said," Jakeem replied, a not-so-nice grin on his face.  "Then I learned."

Steph did not reply.  She had a sinking feeling in her stomach as she walked through the institutional halls alongside Jakeem, losing track of right and left turns along featureless linoleum. Abruptly, Jakeem stopped in front of a door on which a small placard at eye-level read "Gym."

"Here you are," he said, opening the door for her.  "Have fun."  There was a near-sarcastic edge to his tone, and she brushed past him without reply. The door fell shut behind her, closing between her and Jakeem, and the sound of fighting met her ears.  Suddenly she wished she were back out in the hall, back upstairs, even with Courtney and Jakeem if she had to be.  Anywhere but here. Swallowing hard, she stepped forward to the railing that overlooked the main gym floor below.

The fighting sounds where coming from a boxing ring set up more or less centrally in a large training area. A basketball court filled the area immediately below Steph, and to the far side of the ring she glimpsed free weights and other weight training equipment. Her attention, however, was drawn to the bout being fought in the ring.

The two combatants dancing around one another were clearly mismatched by weight, and she patted herself on the back for being able to recognize at least that much of the unfamiliar world of boxing. Wildcat was broad through the chest and shoulders and relatively squat, although he moved with a litheness uncommon to big men.

His opponent, though, had written the book on acrobatics.  At least 75 pounds lighter, Nightwing skipped and evaded almost every punch Wildcat threw.

Nightwing got a punch in under Wildcat's guard, and a laugh came from the ring.  "You're ticklin' me, kid.  Quit pullin' your punches." An attempted uppercut from Nightwing was easily deflected and answered with a jab that got enough of Nightwing's gut to send him jumping back with a grunt.

Steph stared, mesmerized.  She had watched Nightwing fight, in fact saw a half dozen potential moves that he had made before open to him, but apparently there were special rules in Wildcat's ring.

Neither man was throwing any kicks or grabbing onto the other, there was only footwork and fisticuffs. Nightwing was still dancing out of range and Wildcat grinned and plowed into him, throwing a one-two combination which pushed Nightwing back against the ropes. "Bad guy won't let you catch your breath, little bird," Wildcat gloated, pressing his advantage.

Nightwing wasn't saying anything, which surprised Steph.  She had seen him banter with crooks as he took them down lickety-split, had even once witnessed him sparring with Batman, tossing in comments at regular intervals. She had rarely seen such obvious concentration in the older hero, and his intensity... She shook her head to clear it.  No sense getting hot and bothered, no matter how hot Nightwing looked. 

Besides, she realized with a renewed sinking feeling, she would be hot and bothered soon enough - in a bad way - if she was supposed to go into the ring after Nightwing.

Nightwing did not look like he was having a good time with this fight, and he was a thousand times more experienced and skilled than she was.   He was still pressed against the ropes, barely blocking blows that looked like they could knock him cold. Suddenly, Wildcat let out a loud grunt and backed off, and Steph realized Nightwing must've gotten a good punch in.

He was straightening from the ropes with a triumphant grin, moving forward to reengage, but Wildcat was holding up his gloved fist. "Better," he complimented, gesturing toward the wall where, Steph realized, a clock was hung.  "Only took you 12 and a half minutes to get that blow in this time."

Wildcat peeled off his glove and crossed to one corner of the ring, picking up two towels and tossing one in Nightwing's direction.  Nightwing caught it easily and undid one of his own gloves in order to mop his face. "Only took me a year to shave that minute off," Nightwing remarked wryly.

Wildcat chuckled and thumped the smaller man on the back.  "Eh, don't worry about it.  I know it's not your fighting style.  You don't have enough mass to use it exclusively."

"Yeah, I know," Nightwing acknowledged, picking up a bottle of water from the edge of the ring.  He took a swig, then wiped his mouth.  "Batman usually lets me cheat."

That earned a hearty laugh from Wildcat.  "Old man's getting soft, is he?  Tell him I'll be waiting for him next time he's in town."

Nightwing grinned for the first time since Steph had stepped into the gym.  "Oh, I will, don't worry.  Speaking of-"  Nightwing raised his eyes and scanned the balcony level of the gym, quickly spotting Steph.  "Hey, Stephanie.  Come on down here."

The anxiety Steph had forgotten in watching Nightwing and Wildcat fight came surging back, and her feet felt leaden as she moved to obey. She had even less mass than Nightwing.  She only knew one style of punch, and even on that one, Robin said her shoulder was still bailing. If she had to fight Wildcat, she was going to die.

Maybe that was Batman's point.  Maybe he wanted her out of the JSA, too.Certainly Courtney and Jakeem wanted her out, even if Mr. Terrific and Dr. Mid-Nite and Black Canary had all been perfectly nice and encouraging.  She wasn't sure about Sentinel; he was kind of scary. Not Batman scary, but...

She took a deep breath as she reached the bottom of the stairs and forced herself to walk over to the boxing ring. Nightwing and Wildcat were still chatting, but she found herself unable to listen. Instead she focused on not looking nervous. She smiled when she reached the ring.  "Uh, hi."

Nightwing smiled easily.  His hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, although his mask still was firmly in place.  She wondered why it didn't fall off when he sweated so much.  "Hope I didn't interrupt anything you were doing," Nightwing was saying.  "I just figured you might want a lift home."

Steph blinked at him.  "You mean I don't have to fight Wildcat?" she burst out.

Wildcat and Nightwing looked at each other and began laughing uproariously. "Kid, no offense, but I'd crush you in three seconds.  I gotta train you before I do that."

"Yeah," Nightwing agreed.  "He likes his prey to last at least two minutes.  You know how cats like to play with their food."

Wildcat took an affectionate swipe at Nightwing's shoulder, and the younger man shifted with the blow.  "Don't listen to this one.   He keeps strange company."

Nightwing raised an eyebrow in Wildcat's direction.  "Hello, kettle."  He took another swig from his water bottle.  "I'm going to go hit the showers." He looped his boxing gloves over one of the ring posts.  "Spoiler, why don't you help Wildcat stow gear so we'll be ready to go when I get done.  Unless you have something else-"

"I'll stow gear," Steph assured him, hoping she wasn't speaking too quickly.  She didn't need Nightwing telling the Bat that she was already cracking.

Nightwing just nodded.  "Okay.  Thanks for the round, Wildcat."

"Anytime, little bird.  And don't forget to tell your senior partner-"

"I won't," Nightwing called over his shoulder.

Steph watched him go, a little sigh escaping her.  At her elbow, Wildcat said, "Rough day, kid?"

She turned to face him, accepting the pairs of boxing gloves he handed her.  His mask was down, and his expression was mild.  "What?  Oh, no, it was fine," she lied.

He studied her face for a moment.  "Well, that's good to know.  I was worried Courtney and Jakeem might give you a hard time." He turned away and began collecting wet towels from around the ring, apparently oblivious to Steph's startled reaction. 

She trailed after him as he continued speaking.  "Always harder for teenagers to settle in with change, no matter what anyone says.  But it's good to have you here." Wildcat carried his armload of towels toward a laundry cart sitting against the wall.  "Those gloves hang on the pegs there," he directed.  "By the way, what made you think you would have to fight me?  Didn't Terrific tell you we wouldn't start any training until your arm heals?"

Steph flushed a little; Mr. Terrific had told her that.  She carefully began hanging gloves on their pegs, observing they were in order by size and making sure she was hanging them in order.  "I - well, I got a message -" she fumbled.

Wildcat gestured for her to follow him as he began making his way around the gym, picking up stray water bottles and jump ropes.  "A message, eh? Saying you had to fight me?"

"Well, no," Steph confessed.  "Just that I was supposed to see you when I was done.  I just - I figured -"

Wildcat turned to loop a couple jump ropes over her arm.  "Odd thing to figure," he commented.  "Who was the message from?"

Should she tell him?  Of course, he would be able to find out easily enough from Courtney or Jakeem, and she didn't want to give him an excuse to think she couldn't be on the team.  "It was from Batman," she mumbled.

She wasn't sure what she expected Wildcat to do, but she did not expect him to chuckle.  He gave her an amused look.  "He's got to you, too, eh?"

Steph stared at the old boxer.  "*Got* to me?"

Wildcat was still chuckling, his arms now laden with water bottles.  "I've known that boy since before he could shave.  He's got a way with people, y'know?  Not saying it's a *good* way, mind you, just a way."

"He's hard," Steph blurted, unable to stop the words.

Wildcat paused as he set the water bottles on a table under a sign that said, "Wash me!" "I know it seems that way," Wildcat sympathized, "but he's not as hard as you think.  And while he'll train injured, I've never once see him make one of his cadets do it.  Gets pretty worked up if they do train hurt, actually."  Wildcat took the jump ropes from Steph's arm and hung them on a peg.  "Well, that's the gear stowed.  Nightwing's probably gonna test our hot water supply, so you wanna join me for a Soder?"

Steph hesitated.

"Or maybe a juice," Wildcat suggested.  "There's a kitchen just through here and Nightwing will know where to find us."

"Okay," Steph agreed, uncertain how to deal with this man who didn't look quite old enough to know Batman as a boy and who did look quite capable of giving him a hard fight.

"So," Wildcat said over his shoulder, taking it as given that she was following him, "I know you're technically just here as an intern, but we are going to get you trained so you can defend yourself.  Might as well find out some of what you think you know."

Steph glared at the space between Wildcat's shoulder blades.  *That* sounded like the Bat.  What she *thought* she knew? She fixed her face, though, as she caught up to him.  "Batman's trained me a bit, and Robin.  Lots of roof work."

"Heh.  Yeah, he was always big on those roofs," Wildcat acknowledged.  "I half blame that Nightwing for being so into the flying.  Forced the old man to keep up. Any fight training?"

"Some basic judo and jiujitsu," Steph told him.  "And some special strikes that Batgirl taught me."

Wildcat nodded and pulled a chair out from the table in the kitchen he'd led her to.  "Yeah, that little one has some good technique.  Well suited to your size.  Have a seat."

Steph sat.

Wildcat pulled open the refrigerator.  "So whadya like?  Soder?  Apple juice?  Sport drink?"

"Water?" Steph requested.

Wildcat looked up at her over the refrigerator door and grinned.  "Girl after my own heart.  Water it is." He came to the table with two bottled waters and sat down beside her.  She swore she thought she heard the chair groan a little as he settled down on it. 

Somehow he seemed even more massive seated, and she found herself staring at his scarred knuckles. He drank thirstily for a moment, downing half of the bottle in one long swig.  "Good stuff," he remarked. "So you've got some martial arts and some roof work," he recapped.  "Probably have a decent sense of balance to work with, at least.  That's good.  How many days we get you each month?  Your mother decide?"

"Saturdays to start," Steph informed him.  "More after I finish school next spring, less if I start failing classes."

"Your mom's a smart woman," Wildcat noted.  "So mostly the next few weeks you'll just be learning the ropes.  But we should still get you a bit of defense training, just in case." He looked thoughtful.  "I'll talk to Terrific.  I can probably come up with something you can work on that won't risk reinjuring your arm.  And we'll get Sand to drill you on emergency protocols next week."

"Already dictating her every waking moment, Wildcat?" Nightwing's voice asked, and Steph looked up to see the older hero leaning nonchalantly in the doorway to the kitchen. He straightened and went to the refrigerator, claiming a water for himself.  "Don't let him scare you, Steph.  These guys run a tight ship, and they know how to train people.  They won't let you get over your head."

End part 7

*********************

Oversung Hero, part 8By Chicago

Disclaimers in "part 0"

Stephanie twisted under her seatbelt and looked back over her shoulder.  "Um, that was my exit-"

Nightwing barely glanced at her.  "I know."

Steph turned in her seat and scowled at him.  "I suppose you also know that this whole JSA thing is massively probationary and if my mom gets even a whiff that I didn't come directly home-"

The car slowed a little.  "I can swing back from the Bristol exit and take the streets," Nightwing offered.  "I thought you wouldn't mind stopping by the Cave."

"The Batcave?"  Steph's heard gave a little unexpected skip.  "I told Mom I wouldn't be Spoiler-"

"Of course," Nightwing agreed easily, moving the car smoothly into the right lane.  "I wasn't going to suggest that.  But I know Tim's planning on putting in some training time this afternoon, and he mentioned that he missed working with you."  A flicker of a smile quirked a corner of Nightwing's mouth.  "I should've mentioned that before I missed your exit."

"Yes, you should've."  The car decelerated on the Bristol ramp, and Steph saw Nightwing signal a right turn.  "Did he really say he missed working with me?"

Nightwing slowed the car further.  "Cave or home?"

"Cave," Steph decided, and Nightwing shifted to the left turn lane.  She felt a stab of uneasiness, but her mother wasn't expecting her home until after eight.  And she wasn't being Spoiler, she was just hanging out with her boyfriend.

Her boyfriend who happened to be Robin.

She told the nagging voice in the back of her mind to shut up about the spirit of the law.

"So," she began to interrupt the silence, "how long has Ted been training you?"

Nightwing shrugged as he checked his rearview mirrors.  "I guess five years, give or take.  Almost ever since the JSA came out of limbo."

Steph blinked.  "Limbo?"

"They'll tell you about it."  Nightwing slowed a little and cranked the wheel to the left, peeling off the asphalt road to a graveled drive.  The fingers of Steph's right hand tightened on the passenger side armrest as she heard the gravel spraying up against the car's undercarriage.  "Anyway," Nightwing continued, "I met Ted long before that.  Back ten - no, m ore like fifteen years ago."  He shook his head as he seemed to speed up into a series of turns.  "Where does the time go?"

Steph stared out the windshield and tried to mask her discomfort with sarcasm. "Right, you met him when you were what?  Seven?"

"Ten," Nightwing connected mildly.  "I wasn't Robin until I was nine."

"Wait -" Steph began, then barely stifled a gasp as Nightwing's car hurtled through what she *knew* was a holographic projection.  Even knowing she was not really going to crash through solid stone, she had both her feet pressed lock-kneed against the passenger side foot well.

"Hmm?" Nightwing was saying, and it took her a second to realized he was still blithely carrying on the same conversation.  She gamely strove to match his casual attitude as he navigated his car through the Cave switchbacks.

"You were Robin when you were nine?"

"Almost ten.  It took a lot of training before Batman would let me actually tag along on patrol."

"You were *nine*?" Steph repeated, wondering how she had never know that before.  "Batman will barely talk to me and he let you be Robin when you were *nine*?"

"Different times," Nightwing dismissed, turning off the main Cave drive to a side road Steph had never particularly noticed before.  He pulled his car forward into a parking area already occupied by a dozen vehicles. 

"How many Batmobiles are there?" Steph asked, reaching her good arm around to unbuckle her seatbelt.

"Y'know, I haven't asked lately."  Nightwing got out of the car and shut his door, pausing to wait for Steph.  He pointed to one car parked against the far wall.  "That's the one I pretty much totaled when I was seventeen.  We repaired it - well, *I* repaired it - but it doesn¹t see action anymore."

"Is that when he fired you?" Steph blurted out, then closed her lips tightly and pressed her teeth against them to try to hold them closed.  She knew Nightwing had been the first Robin, that he had been fired over some life-endangering incident involving the Joker, but Tim had never given her the full details.  He had, however, given her the impression that it was not something often talked about, and here she was blurting out questions.

She wasn't sure how to read Nightwing's reaction. He glanced back at her as he led the way to an elevator, speaking in careful sounding neutral tones.  "Robin told you about that, huh?"

"I'm sorry," Steph backpedaled, "I just - yeah."

Nightwing sighed and held the elevator door as Steph stepped in.  "Looks like I'm going to have to invite Tim to train with me this weekend."

"Oh, don't-" Steph protested, trailing off because she could swear Nightwing was winking at her from behind his mask.

"It's fine," Nightwing reassured.  "But no, Batman didn't fire me over the Batmobile.  He fired me because I got in the way of a bullet and it scared him."

Got in the way of a bullet, from the Joker, Steph completed in her head, the pieces making more sense than they had.  Although the emotion that Nightwing attributed to BatmanŠ "Scared?" she asked, not willing to believe it.  "Batman?"

"You're not the only kid who's ever had a protective parent," Nightwing said pointedly, and before Steph could process what he'd said, the elevator doors were opening and Nightwing was stepping out into the main level of the Cave.

She was just beginning to follow him when Batman's voice said, "Dick.  Will you be able to stay for dinner?"

She turned her head toward the big chair at the computer console, puzzled by the apparent slip in using code names, startled to notice that Nightwing was removing his mask as he answered.  "Yeah, I'll come back after I take Steph home.  Unless Tim wanted to give her a lift.  Where is Tim, anyway?  I expected he would meet us."

"He just went upstairs to get some Chocos for analysis."  There was something familiar about the unfamiliar casual tones issuing from where Batman sat.  She was trying to work out what it was when the big chair swiveled, and Stephanie Brown froze where she stood.  "Hello, Stephanie," Batman's voice said, except -

Except the face was unmasked, almost smiling, and the blue eyes that met hers belonged not to Batman, but to Bruce Wayne.

"What the fuck?!?"

Bruce's mild expression gave way to a familiar frown of reprimand, and Nightwing - sans mask - stepped forward.  "Sorry for the dramatics," he interceded quickly.  "It's just kinda hard to just blurt out a secret ID."  He reached out a hand.  "Dick Grayson.  Nice to finally meet you."

Steph ignored his outstretched hand, staring past him at the billionaire businessman sitting in Batman's seat.  "Bruce Wayne didn't seem to have trouble blurting out Robin's secret ID."

Something flared in Bruce Wayne's eyes, and if Steph had doubted he was Batman, the rigidity with which he held himself would have laid her doubts to rest.  "That was aŠ mistake," Bruce answered.  He seemed more tentative without the cowl, his stiffness more defensive than intimidated.  Or maybe, Steph reasoned, it was just that she was seeing the man for the first time, instead of Batman.

She snorted.  "A mistake, huh?  And I suppose lying to me and manipulating my mother were entirely justified?"

Bruce's face began to grow stormy, and between Bruce and Stephanie, Nightwing looked increasingly alarmed.  "Um, Stephanie-"

"Don't-"

"Dick-"

The two voices cut him off simultaneously, and Nightwing dropped his hands.  "Right.  Not my argument."  He turned away.  "I'm going to change," he announced over his shoulder, muttering something unheard under his breath as he departed.

Steph continued to glare at Bruce, undeterred by the way his angry expression wavered at Nightwing's retreat.  "How dare you?" she hissed.

Bruce's eyes went flat as his features settled into a bland expression.  "you did not seem inclined to give up being Spoiler, and it is very clear that disapproval and sanctions won't keep you out of costume."

"So you do what?  Fake a near death experience?  Threaten the JSA into taking me and making me think I can run with them.  Be all wolf-in-sheep's-clothing and make my mom think this is all her idea when she plays into-"

"Your mother is right to worry about you."

"Did I say she wasn't?  Geez, you just - you are such a manipulative *asshole*!"  Steph spun before Bruce could see the angry tears beginning to flood her eyes.  She stalked off half-blindly, heading toward a corner of the Cave she had claimed when she had trained there before.  Behind her, she heard Tim's voice address Bruce, but she couldn't make out the words.  She was too confused, too angry - and her stomach was churning in nauseated panic as she realizedŠ

She had just called Batman an asshole.

End part 8

**********************

Oversung Hero, part 9By Chicago

Disclaimers in "part 0"

Tim closed his fingers triumphantly on the package at the back of the top pantry shelf and pulled the Chocos forward.  He was just stepping down from the pantry step stool when his triumph abruptly turned to panic.

"Ahem.  Something I can help you with, Master Tim?"

Tim turned, making an ineffectual gesture to hide the Chocos behind his back.  So much for the ultimate stealth challenge; he was busted dead to rights.  Maybe he could bluff his way through?  He smiled brightly.  "Hi, Alfred.  No, I've got what I need."

Alfred raised an eyebrow.  "Indeed.  I remind you that those were purchased expressly for Master J'onn."

Okay, maybe he wouldn't be able to charm his way out of this.  He quit trying to hide the Chocos.  "I know.  We were just going to run an analysis on them."  When all else fails go for the truth, he told himself.

"Oh?" Alfred asked, remaining in the pantry doorway.  "An analysis beyond those provided by several government agencies and reported on the nutrition label?"

"Actually, yes," Tim confirmed, feeling his position solidify.  "Bruce has some samples from Mars-"

"I see," Alfred interrupted, obviously inferring the project Bruce had set for Tim.  He stepped aside to let Tim exit the pantry.  "You might remind Master Bruce that some Chocos should be left in the house for Master J'onn's next visit."

Tim felt a hint of alarm.  "He won't be here today?"

A meaningful look that Tim was at a loss to understand crossed Alfred's features, and when he spoke there was a hint of - disapproval? - in his tone.  "No, he has agreed that he has other obligations to attend to."

Alarm gave way to a sinking feeling.  "Bruce didn't want him to be here?"

"I am afraid I do not know any details."  That was a classic Alfred evasion, rich with implication and clear in its intent to tell no more.

"Alfred, Bruce is telling Stephanie today."

"He may already be telling her, in fact.  I believe Master Dick arrived shortly after you came up the stairs."

Tim stared at Alfred with a faint sense of horror, not doubting the butler's words despite the puzzling question of how Alfred unfailingly knew about all the comings and goings from the Manor and the Cave.  "She's down there now?"

"I believe so, Master Tim."

"Alfred, I gotta go," Tim announced half over his shoulder, dashing out of the kitchen into the hall to the clock study.  Three steps down the stairs to the Cave, he could hear Steph's raised voice, although he could not make out any words.

He moved swiftly, but he forced himself not to run.  The voices below got clearer until 10 steps from the bottom Steph's words rang out, "Šmanipulative *asshole*!"

Now Tim did break into a run, taking three stairs at a time and skidding to a halt on the main computer platform just in time to catch a glimpse of Stephanie's back.  "Bruce, what did you just do?" he despaired, staring off in the direction Steph had gone.

"I told her."  The words were clipped, delivered in Bat tones.  Tim looked at Bruce, but he had already turned back to the computer, the fingers of his good hand tapping across the keys with the hint of awkwardness that ten-finger typists always developed when working one-handed.

"Where's Dick?" Tim asked, surprised that Dick was nowhere to be seen.

"Changing."

Tim's eyes darted back in the direction Steph had gone.  Bruce wasn't going to tell him more, and Dick had obviously bailed.  "I'm going after her," he announced to no one in particular.

He had a pretty good idea where she had gone.  There were a limited number of easily accessible hidey-holes in the Cave, and he doubted very much that Steph had had enough Cave time to know any but the most obvious.  When he heard the first muffled sobs, he knew his assumption had been accurate.

He paused at the edge of the little grotto when he got there.  Stephanie was sitting on the ledge of rock that rose just a little higher than a bench might, her knees pulled up to her chest and locked in place by her arms, her face buried against the tops of her knees.  An occasional sniffle and strangled sob escaped her, and Tim felt suddenly as if he were intruding.  He remained uncertainly in the shadows until Steph said, "Tim?"

"Yeah, it's me," he replied quietly, stepping forward to claim a space on the rock ledge.  The crinkle of cellophane reminded him that he still had the package of Chocos in his hand, and he offered a half-apologetic smile as Steph raised her face to look at him.  "Want a cookie?" he offered.

Steph blinked, then a gasping laugh pushed past her tears.  "No, thanks."  She blinked her eyes a few more times, then, "Tim, how do you *stand* him?"

Play this carefully, Drake, he warned himself.  "Bruce?" he asked gently.  "Or Batman?"

"They're the same damned guy, aren't they?" Steph snapped, then her eyes grew wide.  "Aren't they?"  There was a desperate quality to the question, a sudden uncertainty.

Tim nodded.  "They are.  He is.  Kind of."  He sighed.  "It's complicated."

"Yeah, everything with you guys is complicated, isn't it?"  Stephanie's eyes were blazing.  "It's like your ultimate excuse for fucking up.  You wanna know something?  My life is complicated, too!"

Tim kept the flinch from his face, knowing Steph's anger wasn't really directed at him.  "I know.  And I'm sorry. I've been the one insisting all along that he should tell you who he was."

Steph wiped at her face with the back of her hand.  "He could've told me before he got me all caught up in his stupid plan."

Tim reached a hand out to rest against Steph's lower leg.  "He should have," he agreed.  "He has lousy timing.  And he is a manipulative asshole."

Steph's head snapped up.  "You heard that?"

"Heck, I was wishing I'd *said* it," Tim admitted.

Steph managed a disconsolate smile.  "Now he really hates me."

Tim shook his head.  "I won't defend him, but I know he doesn't hate you.  He just isn't wired that way."

She gave him a puzzled look.  "What does that mean?"

Tim shrugged.  "Batman - Bruce - he's got a temper and he does stupid things, but he knows it.  He knows when things are his fault.  He is probably reviewing all the reasons he deserves to be called a manipulative asshole right now."

"I can give him a list," Steph stated acidly.

"Take a number," Tim shot back, and they smiled at each other.  Then Steph sighed.

"I just - I can't believe he's been orchestrating this whole thing with the JSA.  I thought maybe -"

"Whoa, hold on," Tim interrupted.  "Batman isn't orchestrating anything."

"What do you mean?  He obviously pulled strings to-"

"No.  I don't know all his thinking, but I honestly think he was trying to do the right thing this time.  In his own twisted way.  But I do know he really just got application materials from Black Canary as Bruce Wayne.  I think maybe he hoped you and your mom would decide to apply.  And once they took you, it would've looked weird if Batman would've ignored it completely."

Steph stared at Tim.  "He didn't make them take me?"

"Not to my knowledge."

Steph's eyes betrayed her disbelief, but she didn't push the question further.  Instead she asked, "Tim, why now?  Why is he revealing -"

"That he's Bruce Wayne?  He trusts you.  He wants you to be more a part of the family.  Make it official or something."

"Like I want to be part of the family," Steph groused.

Tim started, suddenly worried that no one had asked what Steph wanted, had assumed too much.  "Don't you?"

"I don't know," Stephanie confided.  "Kind of.  Maybe.  Part of the time."  She looked down at her splinted arm.  "I think Spoiler's done for now, though."

Tim nodded sympathetically.  "Does it hurt a lot?"

"Not really.  Leslie says it's healing really fast.  It itches like mad, though."

"I bet."

They were silent for a moment, then Tim rose and picked up the unopened package of Chocos.  "Ready to head back?"

Steph hesitated.  "He's going to be mad."

Tim snorted.  "Bruce?  He's probably doing internal cartwheels.  I think telling him off is a family tradition or something.  It just makes you all the more one of us."

"I'm not sure that helps," Stephanie opined, but she rose to her feet and followed Tim through the murky half light back to the main section of the Cave.

Dick was back, dressed in civilian clothes and apparently working on some case or another from the way he was hunched over a microscope to one side of the main computer terminal.  He raised his head at the sound of footsteps.  "Hi, guys," he greeted a touch too loud, and Tim recognized a deliberate effort to prevent Bruce from ignoring their entrance. "Tim, you going to show Steph the rehab regimen?" Dick asked.

Behind him, Tim felt Stephanie stop in her tracks and could all too well imagine the incredulous stare she had focused on Dick.  "You're kidding, right?  After all this-"

"It's a good idea," Bruce's voice interrupted, and Tim shot a grateful smile in Dick's direction as Stephanie turned to face the man in the computer chair.  Bruce was not immune to his own tactics, and Dick had studied his mentor far longer than any of the rest of them had.

"Says who?" Stephanie challenged.

"Empirically-" Bruce began in Batman-logical tones, but Steph was not inclined to listen.

"Empirically nothing.  I'm not in this little club, remember?"

Tim felt his heart sink.  He had not anticipated - but Steph wasn't done.

"Yeah, it's great you finally decided to let me in on things, but seems to me you did everything but order me onto another team.  A *good* team, with their own methods and ideas about training."

"Yes," Bruce agreed.

"And since I am now bound to that team, I think it's only reasonable that they should have the first claim to my time and energy."  She tossed her head, her blonde hair flicking away from her face as she raised her chin defiantly.  "I'm not ungrateful, but I'm not your sidekick.  I'll follow whatever regimen the JSA asks of me for my rehab.  And frankly, I don't think I want to hang out in a Cave.  So if Tim doesn't mind giving me a ride home -"

Tim caught Bruce's eye, as well as the single head bob of affirmation.  "Uh, sure, Steph."  He set the Chocos he was still carrying on the lab table next to the computer console.  "The Redbird's just this way," he gestured, starting toward the elevator down to the Cave garage.

"Thanks," Steph answered, pausing before she stepped onto the catwalk to the elevator to turn back to Bruce.  "And thank you for getting me the information on the internship.  If you need my help, you can reach me through the JSA.  See you later, Dick.  Nice to meet you."

She turned back to the catwalk and joined Tim in the elevator, and all Tim could do was admire her a little more.

End part 9

**********************

Oversung Hero, part 10By Chicago

Disclaimers in "part 0"

"Šmuseum staff will just hit one of these panic buttons if somethingŠ."

Stephanie nodded absently as she followed Sand through an "employees only" door on the museum level, trying hard to keep focused on his explanation of emergency protocols and failing miserably.  The blond man had decided to give her a thorough tour of the JSA brownstone, bringing her attention to every alert system built into the structure at its physical location rather than at the monitor that she would man. 

It was a good idea, Stephanie conceded, made even better by the infinite store of JSA knowledge that Sanderson Hawkins seemed to have at his fingertips.  There was a story for every doorway, respectful pauses to be paid at various sites throughout the building, and they had barely gotten through the public spaces.  So Stephanie did want to pay attention now that someone was *finally* not just telling her rules, but explaining them, but her mind kept flashing back to her last words to Batman.

/*If you need my help, you can reach me through the JSA.*/

It had been a cocky thing to say, a harsh rejection of his overture to bring her more fully into the family.  Not that he didn't deserve being told off, the manipulative bastard.  But still, she wasn't entirely sure the JSA would keep her, and she knew they wouldn't if she couldn't keep her mind on what Sand was saying.

"Š17 different ground floor exits.  It ends up looking like an airplane cabin when itŠ"

Tim said that telling Batman off was a family tradition, and ditching him to join a team was a popular form of rebellion, which had faintly annoyed her.  A part of her was too well aware that she had not rebelled at all; that her "internship" with the JSA was just another of Batman's grand schemes.  She could imagine him sitting in his Cave, tweaking threads and ideas until his puppets did what he wanted.

"Šlistening to me, Steph?  Spoiler?"

Stephanie stopped short, shocked from her thoughts by the use of her code name.  "I-"

Sand looked at her face and chuckled.  "Black Canary must have told you we did our homework.  When Bruce Wayne contacted Dinah about 'Stephanie Brown who did something heroic,' Dinah said she had all she could do not to laugh. You've worked with BC before, I take it?"

Stephanie blinked incredulously.  Sand was honestly talking as if he didn't realize that Batman-

"Don't worry," he said reassuringly, "we won't let on to Mr. Wayne about your superhero life.  And it never hurts to let a billionaire think he owes you one."  Sand winked.

"But-"  Stephanie closed her mouth.  Sand didn't know Batman was Bruce Wayne.  What was it Tim had said about Bruce telling her being a gesture of trust, an invitation to the family?  Somehow Stephanie had wanted to believe that she was the last to know, but here was this well-respected member of the Justice Society, chatting away without a clue.

Sand was watching her face with kindly interest.  "You've been a million miles away, haven't you?"

Stephanie dropped her eyes shame-facedly.

"Hey, don't worry about it," Sand forgave, catching Stephanie's elbow and guiding her toward an open lounge.  "I love giving this tour, so recapping what you missed will be an added bonus.  Want some hot cider?'

"Uh, sure," Steph agreed in bewilderment, sinking down onto one of the couches in the small lounge.

"It's powdered," Sand apologized as he plugged in an electric tea kettle, "but it's still pretty good."  He reached into a cupboard and pulled down two mugs and a box of powdered cider mix.

"That's fine."

"You're on the first floor, by the way, the furry lounge."  He gestured toward a far corner of the room, and Stephanie noticed an overstuffed chair upholstered in obviously fake pink fur.  "We have no idea where Jack found it or why he brought it here, or why he had it at all, come to think of it, but we decided it could live here."  Sand shuddered.  "*Usually* Jack has better taste."

Stephanie bit her lip against a giggle.  She knew Jack Knight was Starman, and that he was no longer with the JSA.  What she had gathered from some of the side comments of other JSAers was that there was some sort of relationship between Sand and Jack beyond "just friends."  But it wasn't her business, and she didn't want to give offense.

"Is it called the furry lounge on the emergency floor plans?" Stephanie asked, just to show she hadn't been completely out of touch with Sand's tour.

He grinned.  "In fact, it is.  I don't know if you tried to tell any of us that trouble was brewing in room 107c that we'd ever find it."

"Heh.  Yeah, I know that feeling," Stephanie acknowledged, remembering an incident when Batman had asked her the street address of the Clocktower to make a point.  The memory brought back the sour tang of Batman's involvement in everything that had happened in the last couple of weeks, and her thoughts once more entangled her.

The whistle of the tea kettle brought her back to the moment, and she watched Sand dump the contents of a cider packet into each mug and add water.  A moment later he was handing her a mug which she accepted with a "thank you."

He settled down on the other couch and sipped at his cider.  "So I'm going to offer some guesses," he began, barely glancing at her.  "Is it school, something here, boy trouble, or Batman?"

"What?" Stephanie asked, startled.

"Maybe it's all of the above?"

"I don't-"

Sand offered her a smile that managed to be sympathetic without being condescending.  "It's pretty clear something is worrying you.  And maybe teenagers have changed a lot since my day, but I know what it would take to distract me as much as you are today when I was young."

"School, the JSA, boys and Batman?"

Sand laughed.  "Well, Sandman instead of Batman, but yeah."

"Sandman?"

"Wesley Dodds," Sand identified, but the name meant nothing to Stephanie.  What did make sense was the oddly distant expression on Sand's face.  "He was *my* mentor, back when I was a sidekick."  He took a swallow of cider.

"You were a sidekick?"  Steph found that somehow hard to believe.

Sand grinned.  "The original issue.  Long before Batman was even born."

"Wait.  But you're -"

"Is this the part where I lament the fact that kids today don't read their history?"

Despite the obvious teasing in Sand's tone, Stephanie blushed crimson.  "I'm sorry. I-"

"Oh, don't apologize.  I think most of the hero community wants to forget what happened to me.  Not that I blame them, mind you, but - well, it's hard to justify anyone having sidekicks when you go back to see what happened to the lot of us in my day."

"What happened to you?"  Stephanie took a sip of her cider, watching Sand's face.

"Oh, I got turned into a sand monster and kept in a cage for a few decades."

"What?" Steph spluttered.

"The jury's still out on whether I was one of the lucky ones.  I didn't end up dead or brainwashed or in some weird soul sharing arrangement.  I got a new start."

"A new start," Steph repeated thoughtfully.

"So," Sand continued brightly, "is it school or something here or -"

Stephanie smiled in spite of herself.  "I choose E.  But minus the boy trouble because really, he's one of the few right things right now.  And actually, the only problem with school is that I'm having trouble getting down to work because I'm thinking about all this other stuff."

"Ah, all of the above," Sand said thoughtfully.  "Minus school and boy means something here and Batman.  Well, I can probably do something about the something here, but if there was really anything to be done about Batman, someone would have done it by now.  Although I'm told I'm a good listener."

Stephanie shifted uneasily.  "Don't you have to show me more protocols and stuff?"

"Eh, they'll still be there after we talk.  But we didn't take on an intern just to show you how to do things."

"You didn't?" Steph blurted.

"Well, if we did that, we'd have to make you an employee, and we generally pay them better.  And we don't make them fight Wildcat."

"He told you about that," Stephanie said flatly to hide her anger.

Sand only smiled.  "Lesson number one, superheroes are incurable gossips.  And before you get more upset, Wildcat told me because he was worried you thought we were judging you and he didn't think he'd reassured you well enough."

"You're kidding."

"Lesson number two, a team works either because its members care about one another or they're paid to have the same goals.  Or the members are fanatics, but fanatics are usually more proactive than the superhero community.  We took you on, Stephanie, and it wasn't in order to see you fail."

Stephanie looked down at her half finished cider.  "Yeah, well, I've already done that."

"Here?  Hardly.  In fact, you've done pretty well considering you're having to deal with two intensely territorial teenagers."

Stephanie snorted.  "You can say that again.  I mean," she caught herself, her eyes darting to Sand's face to assess the damage she had just done.  "Courtney and Jakeem are-"

"Are pretty high on themselves as established JSA members with impressive track records for their tender years.  You take away Jakeem's genie or Courtney's belt and rod, and neither one of them would last three seconds against Wildcat.  Which means when your arm is finally healed and we can really start training you, you'll have an edge over them that they are both well aware of."

"You say so," Steph replied skeptically.

"Hey, teenagers haven't changed that much since my day.  You done with that?"

Stephanie nodded, and he took her mug and his back to the sink.  "So I'm guessing that since you haven't been here long enough to fail at anything, your cryptic remark must have to do with Batman."

"I was never his sidekick, you know," Stephanie suddenly stated, surprised at her own hostility.

"Yeah, I got that much from Oracle."  Sand raised his voice a little to be heard over the running water.

"You asked Oracle about me?"

"Reference check.  I told you we didn't pick you lightly."  Sand shut off the water and left the mugs dripping in the dish drainer by the sink.  "Her reference put you over the top, by the way."

"What did she say?" Stephanie asked, not sure she wanted to know but desperately curious.

Sand returned to the couch and sat down.  "She said you remind you of her at your age."

"What?  But- but -" Steph stopped, asking herself but what?  She had no idea what Oracle was like when she was younger, couldn't even imagine her younger.

"That's what she said," Sand said with a shrug.  "She also said that Batman was doing a lousy job with you and that given your drive and motivations, someone should be taking your training more seriously."

Steph stared, surprised that Oracle would say someone should take her training seriously.  After all, wasn't it Oracle who had interfered with her plan to work with Black Canary?  "Why are you telling me this?"

"Like I said, I was a sidekick once upon a time.  And I remember it as full of dizzying extremes.  There were days when I thought I was everything anyone could want from a kid, and there were other days when I was convinced I was single-handedly bringing the world crashing down around my head and wondered how I soon it would be before Wesley made me hang up my costume and sent me from his home.  Neither option was true, of course, but I didn't understand that until later.  And I can't speak for Batman, but the only reason I've really seen for someone turning away a sidekick or junior partner is out of fear that something bad will happen to them.  And really, that is always a possibility.  But once you've had a taste of this lifeŠ"

"It's hard not to want it," Stephanie finished.

"Exactly.  And if you're going to want it, I'd rather know you're trained to handle anything it can throw at you."

"Like emergency protocols?"

Sand grinned.  "Like emergency protocols.  And why they're there and what they can and can't do and enough information that if something occurs to you to make them better then you know who to propose your ideas to."

"Oh, I could never-"

"Of course you could.  And probably will."  Sand stood and offered Stephanie a hand.  "It's part of being on a team."

Stephanie accepted Sand's hand and let him pull her to her feet.  Their hands remained clasped for a moment in a handshake, and Sand smiled at her.  "Right?" he asked.

"Right," Steph agreed, striving for more conviction than she felt and realizing with surprise that as she said it, it felt true. 

Sand seemed to read the confusion on her face, because his smile got a little broader as he released her hand.  "You'll get used to it," he promised.  "Now, shall we try that tour again?"

"Yeah," Steph replied, following Sand from the lounge with a weird sense of renewed confidence and a sudden realization of what it meant to be mentored.

end

 


End file.
